


Dungeons & Dragons

by Sys



Category: Dragaera - Steven Brust
Genre: Biting, Bondage, D/s, Hand Feeding, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sys/pseuds/Sys
Summary: Vlad and Morrolan meet after the events ofIssola. Please note: This contains major spoilers forIssola. Please also note that it has little in common withDzur.
Relationships: Morrolan e'Drien/Vlad Taltos
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Dungeons & Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterwoman/gifts).

> Disclaimer: My dear friend Hamster has been putting Vlad + Morrolan + bondage ideas in my head while we were discussing _Issola_. I was trying to handle my feelings of the aftermath of _Issola_. This happened. I'm sorry. :)

It was in the evening during a period of time when I was staying at Dzur Mountain because... well that doesn't matter. Tukko had supplied me with a glass of wine after a dinner that was beyond adequate, but not up to the quality he would serve in Sethra's presence. The Lady of the Mountain had deserted me as she frequently did, and I longed for the days of enjoying the hospitality of Castle... the thought made me wince and my hand strayed to my side. A sense of gratitude towards the one who had graciously accepted me into her home filled me, and I _almost_ jumped when my old friend Kiera the Thief approached me unexpectedly. Her expression was one I could not pinpoint, somewhere between somber and concerned, but she greeted me with a brief smile, her hands urging me to my feet. Springing into action at her behest suited me, because ignoring Loiosh's mirth at my... surprise was easier that way.

“There is something I need to show you,” she said, her tone forbidding any questions, which filled my head with more questions than even Loiosh could think up in his hatchling days when every new item had filled him with an unquenchable...

_You're staring into space, boss... reminiscence later?_  
_Point._

“So you just happened to be exploring Dzur Mountain...” I started, mostly to make conversation so I could avoid memories of rings once offered to me by Kiera that I had last seen in Sethra's possession. One of these days Kiera would get her right to come and see me at the Mountain revoked and we would both be sorry, but for reasons neither of us chose to acknowledge Sethra had never caught her yet. Kiera paid me little heed, swiftly leading me through the Mountain, only to pause occasionally to consult a map she had drawn. I would have given _a lot_ to get my hands on it, but didn't stoop low enough to ask if I could have it. 

Only when we had reached a heavy door leading to one of the cells in Sethra's dungeon did I realize that Loiosh and Rocza had chosen not to accompany me. A quick query left me informed that Tukko had finally delivered their dead tecklas and they were going to enjoy some time alone after that. I can take a hint. There was no need to point out that guarding me whenever I left my temporary but fairly secure home had taken a toll on their private life. Loiosh's worded that differently, but I will not have his vocabulary reflect badly on mine.

When my attention returned to the sight in front of me, I realized that Kiera had opened a small window inside the door. I peered inside and... some things I suspected about Sethra and Morrolan presently returned to my mind. The comforts of the cell greatly surpassed those the Jenoine had provided, but the Lord of Black Castle nevertheless sat on the floor, the look on his face so sullen that, for just a moment, it took my attention away from the way his hands had been bound artfully to give him enough room to use the furniture and necessities provided, but not far enough to let him reach Blackwand. I do not know how anyone, even Sethra, could dare remove Blackwand from Morrolan's side, but it probably shows just how devoted he is to her when they are alone together. Any alternative explanations I could think of were scarier.

“I heard rumors that she keeps him here because she fears for his life,” Kiera informed me and my hand strayed to Lady Teldra whose presence could no longer still the thoughts tumbling about in my head the way it had... _that_ thought was too painful to continue, so I didn't. Morrolan had not changed his clothes since I last saw him, nor made any effort to clean himself. The sight told me that Sethra was right to fear for him, perhaps even enough to put him into bondage only a couple of weeks after the Jenoine had chained him and Aliera to the wall. But I was reluctant to hear why Kiera thought to involve me; “He must eat, but it appears that he is... unresponsive.”

For reasons that I do not want to go into, my desire to see Morrolan was severely limited at the time, but Kiera's confidence in my abilities combined with the knowledge that I could not see another friend die forced my hand. I could spot enough food inside the room to feed a small army and before I could think of any good enough reason not to help, Kiera had left a small key in my hand and vanished from my side. I unlocked the door and wondered just why Sethra would choose to lock in a man she had tied up. After I'd stepped inside, I locked the door behind me nonetheless. If Sethra had known that Kiera would steal the key for me she might have chosen to provide an opportunity to lock out the likes of Tukko until I was done with my task, but as she had no way of knowing that...

Morrolan did not take his eyes away from the wall he studied when I first stepped inside. But he did so a moment later, which must've been when either my smell or my steps, or rather his nose or his ears had informed him that the person visiting him was neither Sethra nor Tukko. Nor anyone else for that matter. I do not care to describe the look he gave me, but I was not there to renew our friendship or... well I certainly wasn't there to explore the possibilities of him being tied up in a relatively safe dungeon cell. Much as some parts of my body ached to. It had been years since... that is none of your business. I didn't apologize to him because I didn't know if he'd accept and I really had no idea _how_ to ask his forgiveness for the way in which I had failed to protect... my hand strayed to my side, as did his eyes. 

I did not speak while I removed all daggers, knives and my rapier from my person and placed them with his ring and weapons. It is impossible to describe the effort it took to lay Lady Teldra beside Blackwand, but something told me that I would not receive his cooperation while I was armed when he was not. Had I dared to remove the protection around my neck I would have, but I didn't and he didn't ask. Well he didn't talk to me at all, but his eyes followed me. I chose to take that as a good sign.

Glancing first at him and then at the food placed beside him, I ensured that he knew I was, eventually, going to make him eat. The look in his eyes combined with his hands and feet tied as they were... Thankfully a man of my trade is capable of suppressing most natural reactions for ample amounts of times. I almost missed Loiosh's commentary by that point. It might've lifted the mood, or at least distracted me from my desires. Dzur mountain has, if you can trust the stories, often been the site for futile endeavors, but I'd be lying if I told you that I had a plan on how to do Kiera's bidding. Had I dared to, I would have told him that she, that is Lady Teldra, not Kiera, would not want him to do this. But all hardships aside, if I had wanted to die, I wouldn't have needed to insult a Dragon's, particularly this Dragon's, intelligence by pointing out something so obvious.

It surprised me that my desire to ensure that he would eat was rivaled by the desire to see him cleaned up and dressed resplendently in clothes that did not call to mind his recent death in battle. He looked unlike himself in ways that left me uneasy for reasons I can't really explain. Arrogant and pompous man he is most days of the week, I felt no desire to increase the amount of my undead friends and acquaintances. Both a fresh change of clothes and the necessities of hygiene were within easy reach, but I valued my life enough not to risk that step just yet. He had served me thus when... but that doesn't matter. It is easier to take steps like that if you were told to. Or received permission. I had no reason to assume that he wouldn't tear out my throat if I touched him now. If Sethra had failed after she had stripped him of all his weapons...

Sitting on the floor to face him took effort. Not as much as removing Lady Teldra, but I didn't enjoy the idea of sitting on a stone floor when there were two armchairs and a bed I could have sat on quite comfortably. It is not that I am spoiled, I have sat in far less comfortable places, sometimes by my own choice, but it seems ungracious not to accept comforts provided if they _are_ provided. Mostly for my own consolation I opened a bottle of brandy of a decent quality and filled two glasses, placing one within easy reach of the sullen man before me. His eyes, which were still following my movements, took note, but he made no attempt to reach for it even as I raised my glass and drank. 

It is not that I am not the most patient of men, but if impatience or ribbing could've done the job, Sethra would have invited Aliera to join her efforts. Dragons are supposed to be arrogant and short-tempered and... fun to taunt. Not brooding on the misery of losing... I couldn't bear to look at him any longer. If I could have been elsewhere, I would've still stayed, truth to be told. But only because you are supposed to eat and drink, particularly when you should regain your strength after dying yet...

I surprised us when I kissed him. He surprised me more when he opened his lips and allowed me inside. After ensuring his continued interest in my touch at length, I retrieved a dagger and cut him out of what any self-respecting Dragon would consider rags and we celebrated his return to life on the fairly comfortable bed. His body was mine to explore as I desired and I was reminded that the years apart, to him, might feel closer to weeks. Time works differently for the various people who consider themselves humans or at least... The very first sound I heard from him that night was a moan. It was sweeter than any music I heard. Mostly because I do not care much for music, but also because he sounded alive. By which I mean, he sounded like someone who wanted to _stay_ that way, too and for some time I focused on showing him my approval. 

When he was properly exhausted and sated in ways food could not, my real work began. I fed him first, slices of bread and pieces of cheese, fruit and vegetables, all cut into small enough pieces that they could be swallowed without much chewing. He studied me, still, each time I placed my fingers and the next bite within the range of his teeth. But each time he obediently accepted the bite, cleaning my fingers as I'd taught him years ago. Dragons are quick studies if they _choose_ to learn. They are also exceptionally good at... many things. But I'd rather bite off my tongue than feed his ego. Feeding my Dragon with actual food was a lot more fun, and only slightly reminded me of feeding my hatchling jhereg half a lifetime ago. The memory amused me, but I chose not to share it with Morrolan, least of all when he had only just stopped brooding.

From years of eating quite sparsely, and having the occasional full meal in between, I knew his body would not cope well with too much food after a longer period of fasting. So postponing further food explorations until later, I ensured that he drank, each sip from a glass I pressed to his lips. I will spare you any details on the potential use of the chamber pot, but with the remains of my energy I managed to wash us as well as a bowl of water and a sponge will when you do not have a bath tub nearby. It would have been a waste, too, for much the same reason as I didn't plan on allowing him into his fresh set of clothes for a while. 

By silent, mutual agreement, I took my spot on top of him to sleep. Old habits... we'd slept like that at a time when Loiosh kept watch and me stirring was Morrolan's signal that we needed to get up, swiftly. But that's another story, I might tell you about it sometime. I blew out the remaining candle, covered us with the blankets provided, and hoped that Sethra wouldn't come by to check on her less voluntary guest. Or if she tried, that there was only one key to the door. 

I was quite pleased with myself and my efforts and could have gone to sleep if I hadn't felt arms tightening possessively around my body, as if to prove that his bonds were still giving him too much leeway. Acknowledging tradition, I endured being claimed like a trophy after war, mostly because my attempts to teach him not to had failed miserably whenever I tried. It came as no surprise when teeth scraped against my skin wherever he could reach, leaving deliberate marks that would remain sore for a couple of days. Training a jhereg is easier than training a Dragon, and I can't say I'm an expert at either, else my familiar would know not to mock me whenever the opportunity arises or he feels it does. But both occasions involve getting bitten more often than anyone would care to recall. 

It would be a lie if I claimed that I never wondered if all Dragaerans were like this in bed, if this behavior was limited to Dragons... or if it was limited to my particular representative of those groups. I just didn't know how to ask them about it in a way that didn't end with me dead, and I had no desire to prove or disprove my theories by field studies. After probably forever, I was properly reclaimed and marked in a way that sated his delusions that I am his property. Sadly I lacked the energy to remind him that it is the other way round. 

We lay still for a while and I listened to the rhythm of our heartbeats and was grateful that, for a change, they did not remind me of drums calling to battle. They were softer, almost like the whispering of a summer rain tapping on tree tops. “I miss her,” he said, his tone unlike any I'd heard him use before. Thankfully I was too tired to be expected to comment. What could I have told him? She is mine, as is he. We all have to live with that.


End file.
